


So You Wanna Have a Jerk-A-Thon

by WhiskeyRoseRiot



Series: So You Wanna [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel in the Bunker, Human Castiel, Humor, Like a lot of masturbatuon, M/M, Mentions of Masturbation, No Sex, One Shot, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskeyRoseRiot/pseuds/WhiskeyRoseRiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cas hasn't been seen around the bunker in a couple days, Dean is concerned, and Sam reveals that Cas has discovered the wonders of masturbation.</p><p>Second installment of the 'So You Wanna' series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So You Wanna Have a Jerk-A-Thon

**Author's Note:**

> So I found the opportunity to add on to 'So You Wanna Give a Blow Job,' though it's not really necessary to have read that first to enjoy this bit, which I most certainly hope you do!
> 
> Canon divergent from season 9; Cas still lost his grace, but no angels in Sam's melon to deal with so Cas can get nice and cozy in the bunker.
> 
> M rating for explicit discussion of the enjoyment to be found at one's own hand.

* * *

 

 

It’s been about three days since they’ve seen Cas wandering about the bunker. Dean thinks he might have caught a glimpse of his retreating form leaving the kitchen early one morning, but he could have imagined it. Seriously, something’s not right.

            “I’m gonna go check on him,” Dean says on the fourth day, standing abruptly and knocking over a stack of books on the library table in his wake.

Kevin mutters unintelligibly, not even lifting his head. Sam, however, takes on that nervous I-Know-Something-Dean-Doesn’t-Know-And-Should-Probably-Say-Something-But-Won’t-Until-He-Threatens-Me look. Honestly, they need to work on his poker face. It’s getting pathetic.

            “What?” Dean prompts with a frown.

            “Nothing,” Sam says, running a hand through his hair.

            “Fine,” Dean says.

He makes it approximately two steps away from the table before – ha! Knew Sammy’d fall for it.

            “Maybe we should just let Cas have his space,” Sam says before Dean can get too far. “Let him settle in.”

            “Dude, he’s been here over a month. He’s settled.”

            “Settle into being human, then.”

            “He’s been human plenty,” Dean says. “We haven’t seen the guy in days!”

            “I just…think we should leave him alone for a while. Until he, uh, gets tired of being in his room. He’ll come out eventually.”

Dean sighs, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. Sometimes, he thinks, getting the truth out of his brother is like pulling teeth.

            “Sam, quit beating around the god damn bush and tell me what’s going on with him.”

The color drains from Sam’s face a bit, giving him an uncomfortable, queasy appearance. Oh _wonderful_ , now Dean’s really starting to worry.

            “Sam!” Dean barks, causing Kevin to jump and mumble something that sounds rather like ‘mother fucker.’

            “Okay, okay,” Sam relents. “It’s like this. Last week when Cas, uh, came out or whatever, he was, y’know, just figuring things out. Still kind of like a kid when it came to being human and stuff.”

            “Yeah, and?”

            “And now he’s…a little older.”

            “Man, just say whatever the hell you’re tryin’ to say,” Dean snaps.

            “He’s like a teenager,” Sam says quickly. “Basically.”

Dean throws his hands up in the air in a show of irritation. Yeah, because _that_ clears everything right up.

            “Dude,” Dean growls, “what?”

            “Dean, he’s masturbating. Like, a lot.”

At that, Dean feels his jaw damn near hit the floor. Kevin looks up from his books, blinks, stands, and breaks away to the kitchen without a single word in response to the odd conversation going on around him.

            “How-” Dean tries to ask, but it’s kind of hard to make his throat do that whole talking thing and he has to cough lightly to help it function properly. “How do you even know that?”

            “His room is right next to mine,” Sam says, a tinge of pink upon his cheeks. “It’s gotten to the point where I went out and bought ear plugs. These walls aren’t that thick.”

            “You – he’s been in his room jerkin’ it for the past _three days_?” Dean asks.

Holy shit, that’s…pretty impressive, actually. Even on a good day, when he’s got the time and the energy to spare, Dean’s lucky to wring out two, maybe three orgasms before he’s wiped. But Cas is having a friggin’ sex marathon. With _himself_. Jesus, talk about stamina.

            “Pretty much,” Sam says. “And I’m starting to think it’s my fault.”

Okay, that little confession brings about a boat load of questions, some of which Dean is actually terrified to even consider and none of which he’ll ever, ever ask out loud. And for whatever godforsaken reason, there’s the tiniest, faintest twinge of jealousy that burns in his gut.

What in the actual fuck is _that_ about?

            “A few days ago, he asked me if that was something people actually did, or if it was just something done in porn,” Sam explains. “I told him that it was a normal, healthy thing most humans do and that he should try it out because that’s the best way to get to know what you like, and then I-"

            “Oh my God,” Dean says, feeling something hot and furious coil in his chest, “you did not give him a masturbation demonstration. Tell me you did not show Cas how to jerk himself off. Please tell me you didn’t do that.”

            “God, no!” Sam exclaims, looking truly horrified at the thought. “Christ, Dean, what – no, I showed him a couple of websites and got him a freakin’ book on self pleasure.”

            “…They got books about that?”

            “Yes,” Sam says. “Pretty extensive ones, too.”

            “Huh.”

            “Yeah, I know.”

Dean tugs awkwardly on his ear and scratches at the back of his neck. Welp. Shit just got weird. Not to mention he’d very briefly considered pummeling his brother at the mere thought of Sam showing Cas how to – okay. No. That is so not the issue at hand.

Ha. Hand.

Shut up, he’s fucking hilarious.

            “Dean?”

            “What?”

            “You just…had a weird look on your face,” Sam says.

            “Because we gotta figure out how to get Cas’s hand out his damn pants and get his head back into the real world!” Dean says.

            “We do?” Sam asks fearfully. “Can’t we just leave him alone for a while?”

            “No! We can’t let him turn into one of those – those sex addicts, okay? It can ruin lives.”

            “I think you’re overreacting.”

            “No, listen,” Dean says, “the whole point of an orgasm is to have friggin’ end point. We gotta get him some hobbies or something.”

            “Seems like he found one.”

            “Something that doesn’t involve his dick!”

            “Look, he’s not going around sleeping with a hundred people a week or having unprotected sex or getting women pregnant. If he wants to explore his sexuality-”

            “Jesus Christ,” Dean mutters.

            “-then this is the best way for him to do it. Seriously, stop being such a bitch and let him do his thing.”

            “Ten minutes ago you said it was _your_ fault.”

Sam huffs in annoyance, offering up a classic eye-roll to top off bitch face number 47, and closes the books in front of him.

            “You know what I meant,” he says.

            “Actually, I didn’t.”

            “Wanna tell my why you sound like a jealous boyfriend right now?”

            “What?!” Dean yelps in terror. “I do _not_!”

            “Because you can’t be jealous of someone’s own right hand,” Sam adds.

            “You – you-”

            “I’m gonna go eat lunch with Kevin,” Sam says, pushing his chair away from the table and standing. “If you really think there’s a problem, you can check up on him. I, for one, am not that worried.”

Stalking away like the giant gazelle he is, Sam leaves Dean alone in the library. It takes a moment to regain proper function of his vocal cords and his legs, but he finally sucks in a breath of courage and creeps toward Cas’s room. No matter what Sam says, a three day masturbation-a-thon can’t be _that_ healthy. For anyone. Okay, so Sam’s right about the whole safe sex crap, blah blah, but still. Dean can’t help but be concerned. And that’s all it is: concern. He isn’t jealous. Why would he be jealous? He has absolutely no reason to be jealous.

Not to mention, Dean suddenly has an uncomfortable flashback – or flash forward, depending on the perspective – to post-apocalyptic Cas, high as a kite and surrounded by incense and a pile of horny chicks. He refuses to allow any manifestation of that version of Cas to become a reality. Enjoying sex is one thing; over-sexed hippy is another. Maybe it’s stupid, but it’s a serious fear that’s haunted him since learning about Cas losing his grace in the first place. This is _his_ Cas and Dean doesn’t want him to hate humanity so much that he numbs it all with booze, pills, and orgasms.

The closer he gets to Cas’s room though, the slower his steps become, and he has to literally give himself a soft slap to knock his brain out of the weird gutter in which it had suddenly become entrenched. This is ridiculous.

He steels himself and knocks on Cas’s door.

            “Cas, buddy?” he calls out. “You alive in there?”

Dean listens intently, noting the rustling sound of sheets and a barely audible grumble of discontent. The door opens, revealing a pitch black room and – holy mother of God – a completely disheveled Cas who absolutely _reeks_ of sex. The entire encounter is strange as shit because, for one, Cas is wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and he’s got that crazy sex hair that’s too attractive to even be believable (not that Dean usually notices that sort of crap; it just isn’t fair because his hair sure as hell doesn’t look that good post-sex).

Cas squints against the light from the hallway, but then he gets this soft, lazy smile that makes Dean’s eyebrows inch up in surprise.

            “Oh,” Cas says, voice like smoke and gravel and what the fuck? “Hello, Dean.”

            “Uh…hey, man,” Dean says. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

            “That’s alright. I’ve probably slept too long as it is.”

            “Yeah, its, ah, almost one.”

            “I should get a clock,” Cas says, head lolling against the doorway, that smile still on his lips. “I don’t have one in here yet.”

            “Right, yeah,” Dean says, shifting from foot to foot. “Sooo…I was just, y’know, checkin’ in. We haven’t seen you around in a couple days. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

            “I’m wonderful,” Cas says with a happy sigh.

Holy shit, this is awkward. Unbelievably, painfully awkward.

And Cas just stands there, all skin and loose limbs, with that sated smile and bed-head and sleep warm cheeks. Oh God, Dean is going crazy. He’s going completely batshit because his pulse is skipping happily in tune with some kind of techno song he doesn’t even like, and his palms are sweating like a nervous teenager on his first date and he has no clue in hell (or Heaven or Purgatory) what to say to a half naked, sex-scented Cas in the doorway of the guy’s bedroom.

What is happening?

 _What is happening_?

            “Dean?” Cas asks gently, grin turning to a frown to accompany the unmistakable evidence of worry in his eyes. He places a hand on Dean’s bare forearm.

It feels like something ignites beneath his skin with that touch, zipping through his veins with spark and flame and glory.

            “Are you alright?” Cas asks.

            “Good,” Dean says too quickly, taking a wobbly shuffle backwards and effectively putting an end to skin to skin contact. “Yeah, no, I’m great. Glad you’re good. That you’re alive, I mean. I was worried you weren’t like, eating or anything. But you are. I think. You’re eating, right?”

Cas squints in response to Dean’s ramble, which isn’t that surprising considering that yes, he _is_ rambling.

            “Of course I am,” Cas says, clearly confused. “I may not be able to remember to plug in the coffee maker, but I can remember to feed myself.”

            “Awesome. Yeah, because you need to eat. Especially if you’re gonna – uh – you probably need your energy to…keep up with that stuff. That you’re doing. That you’ve been doing.”

            “You mean masturbating?”

            “Oh my God, don’t – don’t just say it like that.”

            “Why not?” Cas asks. “Sam said that most people indulge in self pleasure at some point. And my reading says there isn’t any shame in it.”

No, okay, this is actually more awkward than it was two minutes ago. Like, there is a tangible sense of awkward hanging over Dean’s head like thundercloud and the damn thing is _laughing_ at him. And it sounds suspiciously like Bobby Singer.

            “It’s not, it’s – yeah, we all do, man, but-”

            “Actually, some males – and females – don’t feel the need to masturbate. Some don’t even experience sexual attraction at all. Isn’t that interesting?”

            “Huh. Different strokes for different folks, I guess,” Dean says with a shrug before shaking his head with impatience. “Wait, that’s not the point. What I’m trying to say is that most people don’t announce it to the world, you know? It’s like – personal space! Remember personal space? We don’t say ‘Hey, please stand this many inches away from me otherwise I’m uncomfortable.’ People just know to do it. Right?”

            “Yes, I remember.”

            “This is like that,” Dean says. “We know other people do it, but we don’t walk into a room and say ‘Sorry I’m late, I was rubbing one out.’ It’s still something we generally keep to ourselves. Mostly.”

            “I see. So I…shouldn’t talk about it.”

            “Not really,” Dean says. “But you don’t have to be, uh, embarrassed about it. It’s totally normal. Just not an everyday conversation starter. Capisce?”

            “I capisce. It’s a social cue,” Cas says, followed by a long yawn. “But I can still do it?”

            “Oh, definitely,” Dean says. “Dude, do it whenever you want. But, I mean, maybe not all the time? We haven’t seen you in days, Cas. It’s weird without you being around all the time.”

            “Ah,” Cas says, lips curving up into a small smile. “You miss me.”

            “ _Yes_ ,” Dean says. He backtracks. “No. I mean, yes, I miss you. But Sam and Kevin do, too. We all do.”

Cas’s smile widens. He crosses his arms over his chest and it’s super odd because he’s still shirtless and Dean can’t stop staring. There’s – there’s so much _skin_ in the form of bare _chestarmsshouldersstomach_ , and he has that angel warding tattooed at the base of his ribs, which is probably more appealing to Dean than it should be. This entire encounter is off-the-charts fucked in the strangest way possible. Yeah, he’s definitely a few cards short of a full deck because there is absolutely no way in hell that he’s checking out his best friend. No way in any dimension, for that matter, be it Earth, Hell, or otherwise, because he has _never_ checked out another –

– Okay, so never encompasses a whole lot of time, and there have been a few times in the past where his eyes have lingered a little too long on another man’s ass. Some people are just blessed and Dean would be a liar if he said he doesn’t appreciate a good ass, guy or girl.

But he’s certainly never stared like this at his best dude friend.

That’s gotta be in the Bible somewhere, right? Thou shalt not covet thy best dude friend? He’s pretty sure it’s like, the eleventh commandment or whatever.

Holy – this is getting utterly stupid.

            “How?” Dean asks suddenly, mouth totally betraying his interest. “I mean, three days, man. That’s-” he laughs nervously, “-that’s a lot of come. Most guys are wiped after one or two times.”

            “I did read that women are more susceptible to multiple orgasms, yes,” Cas says, polite as you friggin’ please, “but I found that with the proper amount of recuperation and sustenance for energy, I can easily have five or six orgasms within a twenty-four hour period. I expect it also has to do with the fact that this body has been denied release for such a long time. This morning hasn’t been as productive as the last few days, though, so I assume I won’t be able to keep it up for much longer.”

Dean’s pretty positive Cas has no clue about the glorious pun he just made, but he doesn’t even get the chance to appreciate it because his mind is immediately overrun with images of Cas sprawled naked on his bed, flushed and sweaty and achingly hard, praying and begging for ‘One more, please, please, just – oh-oh- _oh_ -’

Son of an absolute _bitch_.

He laughs weakly in response, shoving the images away in a deep, dark corner of his useless, rattled brain.

            “So that’s what you’ve been doing, then? Just eating, sleeping, and jerking yourself off?” he asks, trying – and failing – to move past this issue.

            “It’s been a rewarding few days,” Cas says, smile turning into this sly little grin that would make the Devil proud.

            “I’ll bet,” Dean says offering up a weak smile of his own in return. “How ‘bout you put your sex fest on pause for a bit and eat lunch with me, though, huh? I’ll make sandwiches.”

Cas purses his lips, apparently having to seriously consider the idea of food over another round with his right hand.

            “Can we have peanut butter and jelly?” he asks eventually.

            “Sure, yeah. I’m down with PB&J.”

            “Alright. I think I should probably take a shower first. I’m very…sticky.”

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, Sam and Kevin are back in the library pouring over their books and Dean is sitting in the kitchen next to Cas, who’s all shower-fresh and clean. It’s almost like any evidence of the past hour has been washed away and Dean can continue living and pretend like none of it ever happened.

Until Cas straight up moans when taking the first bite of his sandwich, eyes falling shut in pure bliss, and Dean knows he is, without a doubt, in way over his fucking head.

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Cas, you little minx. Also, kudos on your stamina, good job on that.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope I can add another installment soon! :)
> 
> **My computer at home is currently broken, but when I get it fixed I have more to add to this series! Sorry for the delay, lovely people!**


End file.
